Just an Act
by alsdssg
Summary: Is it really just an act? Decide for yourself. Takes place during and after El Tango de Roxanne. Argentinean x Nini


Just an Act

Disclaimer: Much as I wished that I owned Moulin Rouge and that awesome Tango scene, I don't. I did however watch and rewatch said scene on youtube to write this oneshot.

"We have a dance." The Argentineans voice cut across the room, making Nini look up, but only briefly, to see the foreigner begin to descend the stairs.

_What's he doing? _she wondered.

"In the brothels of Buenos Aires," he continued, raising his arms. He then took a step forward and snapped at Satie, who quickly put the music on the piano and began to play just as the violinist began to scratch the music for the tango.

_So that's what he's doing, _Nini thought, her lips curling into a smile. _This should be interesting. _

"It tells the story," the Argentinean said, raising his arms once again, "of a prostitute."

Nini looked up again. This time her gaze remained on him. She was going to dance with him.

_Well, a little drama won't hurt, _Nini thought as she descended the step to take the dance floor across from him.

She looked away from him as he said, "And a man falls in love."

Nini put her hands on her hips and looked him straight in the eye. They both stomped and began to circle each other, and his eyes sparkled as they took her in. He lowered his voice and purred, "With her."

Nini gave him a sardonic look. What was he playing at? Oh well. It made the act more interesting.

"First, there is desire," the Argentinean announced, his dark eyes sliding down Nini lithe form even as she showed it off to him. She had to give him credit. He knew how to make a woman feel good.

They continued to circle each other, though they were closer this time. They were so close, in fact, that their lips almost touched. She let her breath tickle his lips as she wrapped her arm around his head.

"Then, passion." He took hold of her wrist firmly but not roughly and spun her around before taking her in his arms and sliding his hand down her thigh. Nini purred into his ear as a delightful shiver ran down her spine. He had good touch, but then again, she already knew that.

She put out her arm, pointing at another stagehand, and trained her kohl-rimmed green eyes on him. The Argentineans' eyes flashed with the most convincing false jealousy that Nini had ever seen. He was a good actor. Almost as good as she was.

"Suspicion," the Argentinean barked, raising his eyebrows at her as he grabbed her wrist roughly. Nini hissed in pain. Why did he have to be so rough?

_Well, at least I don't have to act,_ she thought cynically.

She looked at a surprised young stagehand at the same time that the Argentinean did.

"Jealousy. Anger. Betrayal!" the Argentinean shouted as he continued to spin Nini in circles.

"When love is for the highest bidder, there can be no trust," he declared, pushing Nini backwards. To any spectator, it would look at though he was in complete control of her, but they didn't know that she was moving with him and that the only control that he had over her was what she gave him.

"Without trust, there is not love," the Argentinean finished, an almost mournful tone creeping into his voice. Nini almost pitied him, but then she reminded herself that it was just an act. She sank to the floor as he seemingly pushed her. She made sure to let fear enter her eyes. It wasn't hard. The Argentinean's false rage was convincing enough to make her a little afraid.

"Yes, jealousy, yes, jealousy," the Argentinean continued, his voice growing louder and louder to the point where Nini was surprised that he wasn't spitting. He continued to spin her, and the dance grew faster and wilder with each step. He let go over her arm suddenly, and Nini grabbed her wrist. He'd bruised it.

"Will drive….will drive you….will drive you mad!" the Argentinean shouted, throwing his head back.

_Well, he acts insane pretty well, _Nini thought even as she cursed herself for being even a little shaken by what was simply good acting. Very good acting, actually.

The stagehand stood behind her, linked his arms through hers, and then spun her around like a windmill as the Argentinean shouted, "Roxanne!"

The stagehand turned her around so that he body was facing hers, and then he took hold of her with less strength than the Argentinean had. Nini turned to face the man singing and gave him a reproachful little look. What was he doing using what her real name in this song? Once again, she regretted telling him that during a night of drunken passion.

"You have to put on that red light," the Argentinean sang, the mournful tone creeping back into his voice as the stagehand began to spin her up, down, and around once again. Another stagehand crept up behind her and took her as his partner in this dance. He seemed more eager than the first to take the legendary cancan dancer, Nini Leg-in-the-Air as his partner. Well, she'd make it worth his while.

"Walk the streets for money," the Argentinean sang as the second stagehand walked her towards the singer. Nini moved with him every step of the way, acting eager to get back to her lover and win him over again. As she moved, she was glad that she hadn't actually had to walk the streets since she'd joined the Diamond Dogs. It was at least a little safer, and it certainly paid better.

"You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right," the Argentinean mourned. And she didn't care. Maybe she had sometime in the far distant past, but now it was her only way of making money.

She fell into the arms of a third man, and he dragged her forward as the Argentinean sang, "Roxanne, you don't have to wear that dress tonight."

_But you like my dress, _Nini thought. Her third man took her into his arms and pulled her close to him. She breathed in his scent and decided that it was nice enough. Better than most of her men's anyway. They went down onto the floor together, and one of her other two partners pulled her back up. She snuggled closer to him, smiling slightly. He then lifted her into the air, and she threw her head back in an imitation of rapture.

"Roxanne," the Argentinean called again as her partner pulled her down and raised her up again.

She threw her head back, baring her slender neck, as the Argentinean sang, "You don't have to sell your body to the night."

_But I do, _she thought defensively. _How else am I supposed to make money? _

The other man spun her around and lowered her to the floor for the third time, and Nini heard a new singer.

"His eyes upon your face." And even as the new singer said this, Nini glanced to her left and saw one of the stagehands gazing lustfully at her.

She moved towards the Argentinean and cupped his face in her hands.

"His hand upon your hand," the voice continued.

The Argentinean gave her look that clearly said, "Leave me be," and she backed away, allowing her hurt to show on her face. Once again, Nini cursed herself for letting herself be taken in by good acting. It wasn't as though she hadn't seen it before.

Out of the corner of her right eye, she saw Christian walking dejectedly through the dancehall singing, "His lips caress your skin."

All the dancers parted for him as he cried, "It's more than I can stand." His accusing eyes fell on the Argentinean and his new dance partner.

_Figures his knickers'd be in a twist over her and the Duke. Doesn't he know that it's gotta happen sometime? _Nini thought. It was almost a shame that he had to lose such innocence to write them their little play. Almost. After all, didn't innocence become ignorance at some point? Yes, Schoolgirl had said something like that once. Well, maybe it hadn't been her. Schoolgirl was a whore of few words for any other than Urchin or perhaps Babydoll.

"Roxanne." The Argentinean and Christian yelled Nini's birth name simultaneously as the dancers and the stagehands paired off to dance the tango.

"Why does my heart cry?" Christian asked aloud.

_Because you can't just let her go. Honestly, you can't love a whore, and a whore can't love you because neither of you can trust the other, _Nini thought, remembering one of Môme Fromage's favorite sayings. It had become Nini's quite quickly afterwards.

"Roxanne!" the Argentinean yelled.

_When will he stop taunting me with my name? _Nini wondered. _Just cause he's the only who knows it. _

"Feelings I can't fight," Christian continued.

_Poor kid's in love or at least he thinks he is, _Nini thought. She almost felt sorry for him. But then how could she honestly feel sorry for him? It wasn't as though she'd ever been in love.

"You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me," Christian continued.

_God damnit, she's a whore! _Nini almost shouted. _How can she not deceive you? _

Underneath Christian's surprisingly loud and wholesome voice, Nini could hear the Argentinean singing something in Spanish.

"And, please, believe me when I say I love you," Christian begged.

And then Nini wondered how anyone could disbelieve it. Here was a real Bohemian here. One who actually believed in their dogma and upheld it in his own life. His naiveté was almost admirable and surprisingly beautiful.

_Stop being sentimental, _she told herself.

Both men stopped singing, and only the scratching of the violin filled the room. Nini met the Argentineans gaze from across the room as she ran a hand up her arm and threw her head back seductively.

"Roxanne!" he screamed.

"Why does my heart cry?" Christian asked.

_Because you can't stop loving her even when she hurts you, _Nini thought.

"You don't have to put on that red light," the Argentinean sang as Christian exited the dancehall.

"Feelings I can't fight." Christians loud voice echoed back into the hall and drowned out the Argentinean's, "You don't have to wear that dress tonight."

"You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me, and please believe me when I say I love you."

Once again, only scratchings of the violin accompanied the Argentinean's accusing glare. This time, however, he made his way towards her across the dance floor.

"Roxanne!" the Argentinean shouted again as he and Christian repeated their respective songs for the third time.

The dancers and the violinist sped up as the Argentinean continued to approach.

"Roxanne!" the Argentinean shouted. He sounded more accusing than ever.

"Why does my heart cry?" he demanded as Nini spun and threw her arms up in the air. The dancers circled them both as the Argentinean continued to shout her name. She managed to avoid him for a few seconds, but he grabbed her and lifted her into the air quickly.

Nini was surprised by his strength. He'd barely given her the time to leapt with him.

"Feelings I can't fight," Christian sang.

The Argentinean threw her down, almost dropping her, and one of the stagehands caught her.

"Roxanne!" the Argentinean shouted—he was hardly singing now—and this time, he did spit.

Her stagehand threw her to the Argentinean.

_So you'll be the betrayer in this act, eh?_ she thought.

The Argentinean grabbed her from behind roughly and brought his hand up to her neck.

_Now for the fun part, _Nini thought. At the Argentinean's slight tug, she let her body go limp and fell to the floor, one arm raised above her head. She kept her eyes closed and kept her breathing slow and shallow.

Through her eyelashes, she saw the Argentinean's expression. The anger was more controlled as he exhaled, and there was an oddly satisfied look to it. He turned on his heel and made to leave the dancehall. Everyone else looked from him to her, terror on their faces. They were all asking themselves the same question: Had Nini Legs-in-the-Air driven this man to such jealousy that he'd actually murdered her in front of them?

"Satisfied with a good act, eh?" Nini asked, gracefully rising. She raised an arm above her head and curtsied to them all.

The Argentinean gave her an almost amazed look and then laughed with her. He walked back towards her, and they both bowed to their stunned and silent audience.

He met her gaze, raised an eyebrow, and then left the dancehall. Nini walked back over the Môme Fromage and China Doll. She sat down with a satisfied look on her face. The Argentinean had decided that he'd be among her clientele that night, and Nini was willing to admit that those were good nights.

"You're alive?" China Doll asked.

"No, China, she's a zombie," Arabia said as she joined them. She leaned against the Chinese courtesan's chair and looked at Nini.

"Fun dance?" she asked.

"It was actually," Nini replied.

"I suppose you enjoyed scaring us all," China Doll sniffed.

"China, it was good acting," Arabia said, slapping her on the back. "Besides, who really cares if there are three or four whores in this place?"

"You don't," Nini replied.

"Not at all," Arabia said, pulling away from China Doll's chair and going to light a cigarette. It was as though Nini and Arabia didn't like each other. They simply preferred pretend fighting to actually getting along.

"That was frightening, Arabia," Môme Fromage put in. "You really looked dead, and well, the Argentinean's a man who can kill."

Nini walked over to Arabia and grabbed a cigarette from her box.

"Watch it!" Arabia hissed, scratching Nini's arm with her perfectly manicured nails.

"Ouch, I'd expect that from Dominatrix or something," Nini retorted.

"Someone say my name?" the sadistic whore inquired, stalking up to them.

Arabia pointed to Nini.

"Nice acting," Dominatrix said, holding her hand out to Nini. The courtesan decided to say nothing about the other woman's lack of acting skills. (After all, when one's sadistic, who needs to act?) Any weapon in Dominatrix's arsenal was probably a good deal more painful than Arabia's flawless nails.

"Hem! Hem," Môme Fromage cut in.

"Yes, Môme?" Nini asked.

"Well, aren't you going to say something about what I said?" she asked.

"I don't think that he's ever killed anyone," Spanish put in. Apparently she'd decided to come up to their conversation "Maimed someone, yes. Murdered them, no."

"Well, Nini would know if anyone does," China Doll said, her eyes focusing on Nini.

The courtesan gave her a look before saying, "He told me how he got here if that's what you mean."

"I know about him too, you know," Spanish said, a small smile coming to her lips.

Nini rolled her eyes at the girl.

"He'll screw who can speak his language," Nini muttered.

Spanish glared at her and said, "Well, I guess you don't want to know what he said to you on the dance floor."

"I'd like to know," China Doll put in.

Môme Fromage sucked in her breath and fixed Nini with a worried glance.

"Yes, why should we all suffer because Nini's a rude, jealous little slut?" Arabia asked.

"I'd love to know," Dominatrix said, raising an eyebrow at Spanish.

Spanish sighed and said, "He said, 'And I who love you so much, what am I going to do? You left me…you left me like a dove. My soul has left me; my heart has left me. I no longer wish to live because I cannot convince you not to sell yourself, Roxanne."

"He is a good poet," China Doll remarked.

"Almost as good as our young Shakespeare, I know," Nini said, feigning disinterest. What he'd said in his native tongue was more emotional than what he'd said to her. It sounded almost like what Christian had said about Satine. But of course the Argentinean was a worldly man. He wouldn't be foolish enough to fall in love with a whore. He'd said it himself.

_Never fall in love with a woman who sells herself. It always ends bad. _

Nini was worldly too. She knew the other rule.

_Never fall in love with your customers because they'll just go back to their spouses._

Really, it was funny that she'd end up quoting Satine.

"Well, girls, I'll go now," Nini said.

"Going off to fuck with your lover?" Arabia asked, raising an eyebrow. Spanish glared at her; China Doll gave her a reproachful looks; and Môme Fromage's glance was warning.

"Language, China," Nini admonished before she left.

Once she had ascended the steps and started towards the room that she shared with the other Four Whores, she heard heavy footfalls behind her. She frowned and turned to see Môme Fromage standing behind her.

"What?" she demanded, putting her hand on her hip.

"Do you know what this looks like?" Môme Fromage asked.

"What does it look like?" Nini asked though she knew what the fat woman was going to say.

"It looks like you're pulling a Satine on us, only this time with a stagehand," Môme Fromage admonished.

"He does pay me. Does our dear old writer do that for our dear old diamond?" Nini asked.

"Does he?" Môme Fromage asked.

"Yes," Nini answered. And it was true. She and the Argentinean would never be so foolish as to make such a mistake. They wouldn't even make it for love. And they weren't in love. Of course they weren't.

"Just be careful," Môme Fromage begged.

"I am careful," Nini replied as she turned and continued up the steps.

"No, you're not," Môme Fromage replied indignately.

Nini laughed, and the older woman joined.

"You're right, Môme," she said, "but in this I am being careful."

"Did he kill a man, Nini? Is that why he's here and not in Argentina?" Môme asked.

"According to him, he killed a man for killing his fiancée," Nini said. "He was eighteen when I met him, and I was fifteen. Is that all that you needed to know?"

"If that's really why he killed him, then yes," Môme Fromage said.

"Well, he hasn't killed me yet, has he?" Nini asked.

"He just pretended to," the older woman remarked.

"Well, that was just an act, wasn't it?" Nini asked again.

"You keep asking me if it's true," Môme Fromage stated.

"There really is no question," Nini continued. "I was just making sure that you knew that."

"Well, I have a question for you," Môme Fromage said.

"Ask away," Nini said lightly.

"How much was just an act?" Môme Fromage asked.

"All of it," Nini replied as though it were the most obvious in the world.

With that, she turned and headed back towards her room.

Next Morning

Nini groaned as she opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred at first, and when she finally managed to focus, it felt as though her head had just been split open.

_Fuck hangovers, _she thought blearily. She rolled over onto side and saw the Argentinean sleeping next to her. What was going on? Why was he still here?

Nini rolled over onto her back and realized that this wasn't her room. Okay then. Why was _she_ here? It wasn't unusual for her to sleep with him in his room, but she never stayed there. She never stayed the night.

Oh God, how drunk had she been last night?

She slowly sat up and gingerly put her feet on the floor. She looked over at her bedmate. She hadn't woken him up. Maybe, just maybe, if she left now and didn't wake him up, he wouldn't remember that she'd stayed, and she would be able to forget about it as well.

Her plan was going well until she made it to the door. It wouldn't budge when she tried to turn it. She cursed under her breath. How could she have forgotten that Harold, who would spend God knew how much money on their costumes and bordellos, had refused to repair the Argentinean's door, the leaking roof on the dormitories, and the creaking stairs?

She let go of the knob and searched the room for another way out.

"Where are you going, Roxanne?"

Nini almost jumped at the sound of his voice. Instead, she turned slowly to face him and said in a perfectly calm voice, "You're door's sticking. I couldn't get out."

"Shame," he said. "That must really be bothering. You haven't said anything about me using your real name. Come to think of it, you didn't say anything about it last night either. I guess it was the drink then."

"Oh, it does bother me," Nini said, rolling her eyes. "I just like to deal with my problems one at a time."

"Why does it bother you?" he asked. As he said this, he slid out of the bed and stalked towards her.

Nini took just a moment longer than usual to come up with her retort, and in that moment, the Argentinean had effectively trapped her against the stuck door.

"Well?" he asked.

"It's not fair," she said simply. "You know my name, but I don't know yours."  
"You volunteered yours," he said, cocking his head to the side.

"Then volunteer yours," she retorted, raising her chin so that she could look into her eyes. Once again, Nini wished that she hadn't been born so small.

"I don't want to; you did," the Argentinean finally said.

"I was drunk," Nini said.

"I was too, and I still didn't want to," the Argentinean said.

Nini sighed in exasperation, and the Argentinean caught her chin in his hand.

"Why does it bother you? It's a good name," he asked softly.

"It's from a life that I left behind," Nini replied. "It doesn't even feel like my name anymore."

"And Nini does?" he asked.

Nini paused before saying, "Does anyone's name really feel like their own?"

"When did you get so philosophical?" he asked.

"Since you started this conversation. It helps to be philosophical to think up answers, so I'll be philosophical for now. Now, I really could use a cigarette, and if you could pay me for last night, then I'll be on my way, and you can on your…"

She'd only gotten the r halfway out of her mouth before it was covered by the Argentinean's.

His arm wrapped around her waist as he dragged her back towards his bed. Nini didn't resist. That ability had died in her long ago.

He pulled her into his act of passion, male dominance, and maybe even some twistingly forbidden love, and she went right along with it. After all, wasn't she the best actress in the Moulin Rouge? The funny thing was, he was a good actor too, and she could almost believe what they were acting out until one of them remember the real reason for their coupling: money. They'd finish, and then she'd remind him to pay her, or he'd give her the money. This time, he was the one who ended the act, getting up, saying he had to go, and tossing her the money.

"For you, Roxanne," he said, giving her a whimsical kiss.

Nini bowed her head in thanks. She got up and took the money. Sometimes it was her only reminder of the truth of her life. It was just an act.

Well, did everyone like it? I'm not sure how happy I am about it, but whatever. Just tell me what you think.


End file.
